


How It Happened to Happen

by henpecked



Category: DR. SEUSS - Works
Genre: Alternate Canon, Character Study, Gen, Pre-Slash, Wordcount: 1.000-3.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-20
Updated: 2010-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-13 21:16:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/141811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/henpecked/pseuds/henpecked
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In every good story, dear reader, there is a beginning, a middle and an end. I'm sure you know the story of Bartholomew Cubbins and his five hundred hats, but what you may not know is that the story you've been told is merely the middle part of a much bigger story. I can tell you the beginning -- of Bartholomew Cubbins living far off in the fields on the edge of the cranberry bog in the Kingdom of Didd and of Grand Duke Wilfred living in the Palace with the King.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How It Happened to Happen

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MsBattyBat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsBattyBat/gifts).



> Bartholomew Cubbins, Grand Duke Wilfred and all other things from Didd copyright to the estate of Dr Seuss, no infringement intended. Beta provided by Voksen (thank you!), all other mistakes are wholly my own. Thank you so much, MsBattyBat, for giving me the opportunity to write for you (and reacquaint me with a story I've not read in years and years).

In every good story, dear reader, there is a beginning, a middle and an end. I'm sure you know the story of Bartholomew Cubbins and his five hundred hats, but what you may not know is that the story you've been told is merely the middle part of a much bigger story. I can tell you the beginning -- of Bartholomew Cubbins living far off in the fields on the edge of the cranberry bog in the Kingdom of Didd and of Grand Duke Wilfred living in the Palace with the King.

When Bartholomew Cubbins was just a boy, he had already made up his mind as to what he wished to be when he grew up. Just as his later-to-be infamous hat had been handed down from his grandfather to his father, Bartholomew knew when it was time, he would become a cranberry farmer. It was a tradition in his family that he wanted to keep. Oh, it might not have been a glamorous profession, like the men he heard of in town who worked in the Palace for the King; and it might not be an important enough job to be summoned by the King himself to lend his voice to council, but that suited Bartholomew just fine. He had never even met any of these fine men, but he had heard stories from the other peasants of the wonderful people they'd met and the things they'd seen when they traveled to the market to sell their cranberries. Bartholomew was waiting patiently for the day he too would be allowed to travel to market.

When he was too small to work the bog with his father, he stayed at home with his mother, helping to cook and mend. His mother thought these were important skills to learn. "You can never know too much, Bartholomew," she would always say. So Bartholomew learned to make cloth on the loom, how to fish and how to thatch a roof after a storm. Bartholomew loved his mother very much, just as his mother loved him very much. She was worried, however, that Bartholomew might be destined for greater things than the cranberry bog -- and she took his schooling very seriously. But the only subject Bartholomew seemed very serious about was cranberries and the farming thereof. He learned about the best times to plant cranberries, he learned when to flood the bog, and he learned about the very special cranberry only grown in the Kingdom of Didd -- the gozberry. His family had been growing the gozberry for years and years and years. It was very important to Bartholomew to learn how to cultivate the gozberry.

During the winter festival of Bartholomew's twelfth year, his mother asked him if he would like a very special gift. Bartholomew asked for waders, as he had for the previous five winter festivals. He knew he was finally tall enough to stand in the bog without the waters coming above his chest. He was ready to go out with his father to work the bog. And guess what gift he received that year? Why, a specially made pair of waders, just for him. It was the happiest winter festival that Bartholomew could ever remember. When Bartholomew put them on for the first time, snapping the buckles tight, he knew he was ready. He wore his waders everywhere those first few months.

The same year he received his waders, Bartholomew went to the market with his father for the first time and he was overwhelmed. They had traveled up from the huts of the peasants, through the houses of the people, past the rich mens' mansions, beyond the towers of the Noblemen's castles to the small town at the foot of the King Derwin's Palace.

Oh, the sights he saw. He saw men and women of all shapes and sizes selling all manners of things. He saw a man in a fine cape and hat buying apples from a woman in a skirt so voluminous it threatened to swallow her up. He saw men on horses who looked very serious indeed. His father said they were the King's Own Guards, and that they were not to be joked with under any circumstances. Bartholomew thought they could do with a joke -- in fact, it might be just what they needed to change their ever-grim expressions. A boy of Bartholomew's own age who was finely dressed and accompanied by a man with an archer's bow came by to buy some cranberries one day. The boy was someone very important, Bartholomew could tell. But who? "I do so love cranberries," the boy said, "My mother used to give them to me all the time." The boy seemed sad for a moment, but he smiled. Bartholomew smiled back, and the boy moved along to see a man juggling an orange, a milk jug and a small bouquet of flowers.

Bartholomew met so many new and interesting people at the market he almost wished he never had to go home. But he would have missed his mother terribly if he never went home, so at the end of the day, he did.

Sometimes, when Bartholomew went to town to sell cranberries, as he walked past all those houses, mansions and towers, looking up at the palace, he would felt pretty small. Sometimes he got discouraged. But then he thought of his family and his bog, and he would remember that small people were important, too. Why, if there were no one working the bog, where would the people of Didd get their cranberries? Where would they get their gozberries? Bartholomew thought to himself, "All the jobs in the kingdom are important, big and small. The king has a job to do, and so do I."

So Bartholomew continued to sell his cranberries in the market with his father, and in later years, he would even went by himself. He was a very good boy who generally stayed out of trouble. Except for one day...

Do you remember the Grand Duke Wilfred? Of course you do. Well his story has a beginning, too. Would you like to hear it? Oh, I thought you would.

Around the same time that young Bartholomew was making a very important decision about his future career, young Wilfred was sent to live in the Palace of King Derwin. One might think he was sent away because his parents did not love him, but I will tell you, dear reader, that was simply not the case. Wilfred was a lovely little boy whose parents loved him very much. But life is not always kind to those who deserve kindness. No, it is the whole truth that when Wilfred was a young boy his parents unfortunately perished in a carriage accident. And that is why, even when he grew up to be a young man, and then grew up more to become a man in his own right, Wilfred walked everywhere he could. He did not like horses.

And so it came to be that Wilfred became the young ward of the King: the King's nephew and Grand Duke. Though he was often sad when thinking of his mother and father, Wilfred had grown to love the Palace and the town below. When he first came to live in the Palace, he befriended the Yeoman of the Bowmen. Wilfred spent his days taking lessons from the Yeoman in archery. Wilfred was very good, you see. After practicing for some time, he was able to hit the bullseye on most every target, no matter the distance. Wilfred liked to imagine sometimes that his mother would have been very proud of him. And yet, he made the Yeoman promise to keep his skills a secret. The King had a son, and while the King was a very loving uncle to Wilfred, that son was a very jealous son. He did not like for anyone to better than him at anything. As the Prince, he believed that it was his right to be the best. That was fine with Wilfred. He wasn't a braggart. It was enough for Wilfred to know he was the best archer in the Kingdom of Didd.

In Wilfred's twelfth year, he was given permission to travel to the town without the King. Wilfred would sometimes go down to the town with only a member from the King's Own Guards to escort him. They wore no cloaks or crowns to distinguish themselves. It was easy to pretend not to be the Grand Duke when mixing among the many other people in the town. Why, hardly anyone paid him any attention at all! He could go from stall to stall, from merchant to merchant, and everyone treated him as though he were just another customer. And, oh, the things he could see. The sights! The smells! There was a particular pub that he favored, as they had the best gozberry pie he had ever eaten -- including the ones made by the Palace cooks. He had never tasted such fine gozberries before he came to live at the Palace. They were a very special kind of cranberry, grown only in the bogs on the outer part of the Kingdom. Many times he asked the pretty barmaid at the pub for her recipe, but she only smiled and said it was a secret. That was okay. Wilfred had his own secrets to keep. He understood.

Wilfred knew that the King would go to the highest turret of the castle every now and then and look out on the entire Kingdom. It made the King feel very important, to be so far above the Kingdom that he could see as far as the farest far fields. Whenever Wilfred had time between his archery lessons, his tutors and his court duties, he looked out the same window on the highest turret and wonder what sort of life the peasants had, down in the huts below the towers, mansions and houses. He liked to imagine that one day, maybe he would go live down by the bogs. He would be free to do as he pleased, to never have to compete with the Prince or listen to another boring story the King told. But it was just a daydream, Wilfred knew, because he understood that everyone has a place in a Kingdom -- even if that meant being a Grand Duke and all that comes with it.

And so it went for a few years. Wilfred came to cherish his time with the Yeoman, who by this time had become as important to Wilfred as his own dear uncle. He and the Prince came up with elaborate pranks for Sir Alaric, who was a very studious man with important business to be taken care of seemingly all the time. Sir Alaric kept a perfect record of every prank. Wilfred spent time in the kitchens of the Palace, learning how to bake gozberry pies (but they never tasted as good as the barmaid's pies). To be frank, Grand Duke Wilfred spent most of his time waiting for something marvelous to happen to him.

Ah, well, you know what happened next. Everyone has heard the story of Bartholomew Cubbins and his five hundred hats. But do you know what came after that? Well, I'll tell you, dear reader.

A few days after all that hubbub in the town with the business of the hats, Bartholomew sat with his mother in their hut thinking of all the wonderful things they could do with 500 gold pieces. Then, suddenly, there came a knocking at the hut door. "Who could it be now?" Bartholomew's mother asked. Ever since the story of Bartholomew's hats had passed down from the town to the bog, many of the peasants had come by to hear the telling from Bartholomew himself. He had told the story so many times, he had lost count. Perhaps he should have enlisted the help of Sir Alaric -- Alaric would have known just how times the tale had been told. However, it was a different sort of person at the door that day.

When Bartholomew opened the door, there stood Grand Duke Wilfred himself. "Oh. Oh! Grand Duke, Sir, we were not expecting--" Bartholomew was tongue tied a bit, something that had never happened before. It was to be expected; royalty from the Palace rarely came to visit the far off fields. But much to Bartholomew's surprise, Grand Duke Wilfred blushed, and pulled a hat from inside his coat. Not just any hat, of course, but the hat Bartholomew had been given by his father, from his father before that.

"I've come to return your hat," the Grand Duke said.

"Thank you, ever so much. This was my grandfather's hat. It's not much, but it's very important to me," Bartholomew said. He brightened. "You like cranberries, don't you?"

"Very much," Wilfred said, then smiled. "My mother used to give them to me when I was a child."

"Then I've got just the thing for you. We've just brought in some gozberries today. They're the best we've had all year!" Bartholomew exclaimed, "Come in, Grand Duke, please."

And some people, after hearing this story, may say that it has reached its end. But I don't believe that to be true. Do you, dear reader? Surely, it couldn't be. Of course, there's another story to be told -- the story of how Bartholomew Cubbins and the Grand Duke Wilfred became fast friends and maybe even something else more. But I think, perhaps, the beginning of that story will have to wait for another day.


End file.
